


Not just a bird

by mordredllewelynjones



Series: Gotham Network Event Fics [2]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Season/Series 05, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 04:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20401849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mordredllewelynjones/pseuds/mordredllewelynjones
Summary: In a rare moment of quiet the King of Gotham takes some time to reflect on his life.For the Gotham Network's August event: Oswald Cobblepot.No sex or rude stuff in this fic.





	Not just a bird

**Author's Note:**

> Who would have thought such a small fic could generate so much writers block!☹

Oswald Cobblepot rolled over in bed and stared at the ceiling. He could hear the faint ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room but had neither the desire or motivation to cast his gaze to its informative face. The fact that not even a slither of light could be seen peeking over the top of the bedroom curtains to bathe the ceiling with the dim glow which always heralded the morning was enough to tell him that it was still the middle of the night. Not that the time really mattered in the grand scheme of things.

Oswald sighed as he continued to lie in motionless contemplation. When he stopped to think about his current situation it became clear that he had no reason to be lying awake so late at night. (Or perhaps it was early morning? Those two were practically one and the same.) He was safe in a comfortable bed. No immediate threat of someone trying to bring about his unfortunate demise. All was well. What a foreign feeling that was, to have little to fear.

  
Blackgate had been far from safe. He hadn't slept a wink during the first week following his incarceration. Surrounded by so many cut throats and rapists, the sort with neither enough brains or imagination for him to appeal to or exploit, it would have been tantamount to suicide to let his guard down for a moment, especially when the prison wardens were almost as much of a danger as the inmates. Oswald had eventually passed out due to lack of sleep. Had been forced to accept defeat and give in to nature. However, throughout his ten years at Blackgate he had purposely kept sleep to the bare minimum and had always kept one eye half open whilst he slept, figuratively speaking.

  
Perhaps that was the cause of his current wakefulness, he wondered. Even before prison so much of his life has been spent looking over his shoulder in restless worry should a seconds lapse on his part result in a loss of all he had built or even his life. It was understandable that now, when the extent of his concerns stretched as far as a man dressed as a bat swinging around the city, he would find it hard to adjust. Right now he had nothing to fight for and therefore nothing to fight against. This moment, right here right now, was the closest he had been to free in a long time.

  
Freedom had always been his chief concern from the very beginning of his career, Oswald reflected as the night continued to slowly slip out from under him to make way for morning. In his younger years he had watched the people of the rundown neighbourhood which himself and his beloved mother had been condemned to reside being downtrodden and abused relentlessly, often to the point of death, by those around them. The protection racketeers, the mob, the police. All were as bad each other back then and there was little one could do to escape their clutches. Except join them. Oswald had seen the difference in how the likes of Don Falcone were treated, how much they were respected and how little they seemingly had to fear, and had decided that was what he wanted. For his mother as well as himself. After all the horrors she had braved alone in this city whilst raising him it was the least he could do to try and get her some form of security in later life. To protect her from the things which he wished he had been able to spare her from sooner.

  
The grass is greener on the other side is a saying often proved false and such was true in Oswald's case. Life in the mob presented a whole new set of dangers, ones which Oswald appeared to have a natural talent for avoiding or escaping but dangers all the same and once one was in the mob there was no way out. So Oswald did the only conceivable thing, move up the ranks. Greed, power and the desire for revenge on all the various people who had wronged him during the course of his life had swept him up in their deadly intoxicating spell but still his sense of self preservation and more noble sense of duty to his mother’s safety remained to spur him on.

  
After she'd died he had initially seen no reason to continue. What was the point if she was gone? If he had no one to protect? The fact that his status as a crime lord had played a part in her demise had only helped to sour his feelings towards it all. Life, cruel as it was, had continued; however, and he had fashioned himself to match. A once King of Gotham would never be free from challengers regardless of whether he hung up his crown or not so he simply decided to own it. It was all he had left now so he might as well embrace it as best he could. He did have a flair for the business, after all. Besides, his mother had always told him he would be a great man some day and the life of crime was the only way someone such as him could ever achieve such a thing.

  
And so the Penguin was born. Ruthless, violent, traditional in his approach and indomitable. Such was Penguin's reputation and legacy. That was how the world saw him and to an extent it was a worthy representation of his character. He was all those things it was true. He was guilty of many crimes, had lied to many and manipulated to the same numerical degree, but he had never denied his true nature.

  
Yet despite this openness so few people saw him for all that he was or understood him on a deeper than surface value level. In the early days he had sincerely hoped that Jim Gordon would break the mould. The man had seemed so different to the rest of Gotham, a breath of fresh air and one that was prepared to fight for what he wanted. Much like Oswald in a sense. Unfortunately Jim failed to appreciate their similarities or Oswald's attempts at friendship. He saw what he wanted to see. What the majority of Gotham saw. A monster without a single redeeming quality.

  
As a result the softer yet equally powerful and impactful aspects of Oswald's personality remained unnoticed. Love and compassion, things which were some of the most precious in the world to him, were absent from his life from the moment his mother breathed her last breath for she was no longer there to receive his affection or give him hers. Oswald was alone and it was heartbreaking. Power, he soon discovered, meant little without someone to share it with. Yet how could he share it when he had no one? No one who saw past the Penguin through to the entirety of his being and accepted him completely.

  
The answer was simple, he couldn't. All that could be done was to make the most of his lot. To put everything into being the King of Gotham and never let anyone take it away from him. It was a life not totally devoid of perks after all. Still, Oswald was not the sort of person who could ever be contented with less so still he had yearned relentlessly for what was out of reach. Even now, having moved on from those times in many ways, looking back on his turbulent mess of a life and all the emotional struggles had come with it hurt. Oswald ceased his idle surveillance of the ceiling and screwed his eyelids tightly shut, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he found himself overcome with emotion. A very familiar experience.

  
Suddenly a lithe set of arms snaked their way around his large pillow like stomach. Giving a slight start Oswald turned to look at the blurry eyed and tousled haired man who was nuzzling into his side.

  
"I can bring tears to your eyes and resurrect the dead. I form in an instant but can last a lifetime. What am I?"

  
"A memory" Oswald breathed as he snuggled up to Ed and buried his face in his boyfriend’s lank chocolate brown curls "How did you know?"

  
Edward hummed quietly as he pulled his soft round birdy closer and stroked a finger gently down one of Oswald's freckled cheeks. "Because I always know and the reason for that is because you never change" he replied, still managing to sound slightly conceited despite his sleepy tone of voice "You always wear your emotions so plainly on your face, clear enough for the whole world to see, and having been there through some of your darker moments I have an advantage over others. I am sure you would be just as skilled should our roles be reversed. You know me just as well as I know you." There was a pause before he added, much more tenderly, "Do you want to talk about it?"

  
Oswald thought about it for a moment whilst he basked in the warmth radiating from his companion’s body. Ed. Despite all they had been through and all they had done to one another Ed was the constant silver lining in his life. A reason to fight, a reason to hope. How could he do anything less for the only person other than his mother to see and accept him for his true self? The only person to see the worth in Oswald Cobblepot and not just the Penguin. Who else could he have possibly fallen in love with? And while it had been a long and painful journey for the both of them that love had been returned. Now, finally, they both had someone to share everything with.

  
With a contented smile Oswald shifted position so as to capture Edward’s lips in a chaste kiss. “No” he replied quietly “Just know that I love you.”

“I love you too”

“And that means more to me than you could ever know.”

** The End.**


End file.
